Читать книгу Blessed Trinity - Vanessa Davis Griggs - Страница 15

Have we not all one father? hath not one God created us? why do we deal treacherously every man against his brother…

(Malachi 2:10)

It was not so cold on Wednesday, that 13th day of February. Pastor Landris had agreed to meet Reverend Knight for lunch at a little restaurant on the east side of town famous for its down-home, country cooking.

“Glad you decided to come,” Reverend Knight said. The two men were being escorted to their table by a tall, young, reddish-hued woman whose hair, pulled up on top of her head, swung and bounced like a real pony’s tail with every step, twist, and turn she made.

“Is this okay?” the young woman asked. She stood next to a booth well away from the kitchen or any other distractions.

“Very good, as always,” Reverend Knight said. “Thank you, Sherry.”

The woman blushed after hearing her name and smiled at Reverend Knight, then Pastor Landris as she placed two tall, laminated menus on the table.

Pastor Landris started to sit down when Reverend Knight touched his arm lightly. “Say, Doc. Do you mind if I sit on that side? It’s just a thing with me.”

Pastor Landris thought nothing about it and switched to the other side of the table, his back now turned toward anyone who might come up to them. “Looks like you’re a regular here,” Pastor Landris said as he picked up the menu.

“I like this place. It’s family owned and operated.” Reverend Knight placed his cell phone on the table. “A woman named Sophie started all of this. She passed her tried-and-true recipes down, and now her children and grandchildren run it almost the same way she did. Although I have come to the conclusion that good cooking is more than just knowing all the right ingredients. I can tell a slight difference in the taste from when Sophie was running things and now. Maybe it’s all the health-conscious changes—banning hog jowls, ham hocks, fatback, and the like. But this is still the best soul food place you’ll find anywhere around these parts.” He leaned in and watched Pastor Landris scan the menu. “See anything you’re interested in?”

“Everything looks good.”

“Get whatever your heart desires. As I’ve said, this is on me.”

“Any suggestions?”

“The seafood section is always great. You’ll get your choice of three vegetables with every entrée. The slaw, with its special sauce, will have you begging for your own bottle to take home, which is why they had to start selling it. Now me, I lean toward the fried food section, but my doctor’s been getting onto me about that. High cholesterol and Type II diabetes mumbo-jumbo—just the devil trying to steal my joy. My doctor says I need to eat more broiled and baked foods and lay off the grease. He doesn’t know our people were raised on grease. I have to catch myself to keep from licking every one of my ten fingers. Grease virtually runs through our veins.”

“He probably knows that, but we now know grease is not good for our health. You know what they say: when you know better you should do better,” Pastor Landris said.

“Then I suppose you don’t want to hear me suggest you try the fried macaroni and cheese.” He laughed. “It’s to die for.”

“Really? Well, I believe in life, so I may give that one a try and say it’s to live for.”

“I’d like to get some myself,” Reverend Knight said. “But if I do, there goes my doing better right out the door before I even get started.” He sat back, his attention vacillating from Pastor Landris to various people as they walked in. He acknowledged them with a slight wave or a quick nod.

Sherry came back and took their orders. “I’ll be back shortly with your appetizers,” she said with a smile.

“So,” Pastor Landris began, “what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Direct and to the point.” Reverend Knight nodded. “All right. That building you were interested in buying…I suppose you’ve probably figured out I have some vested interest in it.”

“Vested, like head of the nonprofit organization that holds the deed to it? Yes, I figured it out, right after I learned it was no longer on the market.”

“Tell me, Pastor Landris. Where are you and your family attending church these days now that you’ve moved to our fine city? I’m sure you must be visiting somewhere while you’re in between assignments.”

Pastor Landris paused as a plate of six golden brown, golf-ball-shaped items were quietly placed in front of him.

Reverend Knight eyed Pastor Landris’s plate as a bowl of clam chowder was being positioned in front of him. “Now I wish I’d gotten some of those instead of listening to you about doing better. They look scrumptious. Even more than usual.”

“Would you like me to bring you some, Reverend Knight?” Sherry asked.

“You’re welcome to have some of mine,” Pastor Landris said.

“If you could bring me a small plate, I think I’ll take the good Pastor Landris here up on his offer and liberate him of some of his. This way, I’ll be halfway doing better.”

“Oh, my,” Sherry said. “It really is you! You’re Pastor Landris. Oh, my goodness! I knew it. I told one of my coworkers back there that you looked just like that Pastor Landris who used to come on television all the time. Dreadlocks and all! She said I was tripping. Wait until she finds out it really is you. You here visiting?”

“No—actually, I just moved here.”

“You…are…kidding me! You actually moved from Atlanta to Birmingham? That’s awesome. Are you the pastor of a church yet?” She was giving her full attention to Pastor Landris.

Reverend Knight looked at her as though he couldn’t believe he was having to wait to get the plate he’d just requested.

“I’m working on starting a church congregation. But no, I’m not a pastor here as yet.”

“Well, if I have my way,” Reverend Knight said, “he will be soon. I’m trying to convince him to come aboard The Church of Revelation. You’ve been to our church.”

Sherry looked at Reverend Knight and smiled, then turned back to Pastor Landris. “Pastor Landris, I loved watching you on television. A few of us wondered what happened to you. There was this other preacher who started coming on in your place. His name escapes me, and truthfully, he really wasn’t that good. It didn’t surprise me he didn’t stay on TV long. Anyway, if I were to give you my name, address, and phone number, would you please let me know when you begin holding services? I know so many people who would love to come hear you.” Sherry wrote her information down, tore off the sheet from her ordering pad, and handed it to him.

“I’ll let you know,” Pastor Landris said as he folded the paper and stuck it inside his jacket pocket.

Reverend Knight cleared his throat. Sherry looked at him. “My plate?” he said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll get that for you right now. Sorry.” She left and came back in minutes.

“Enjoy,” she said, her attention mainly directed at Pastor Landris. “It was so nice meeting you.” She flashed a warm smile at them both, even though her last comment only applied to Pastor Landris.

“Same here,” Pastor Landris said.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Reverend Knight said after she was out of earshot. “Better not let your wife find that phone number on you.” He shook his head and smiled. “Smooth,” he said. “May we say grace now?” He bowed his head and prayed.

Looking back up at Pastor Landris, Reverend Knight took his fork and rolled two of the golden brown, fried macaroni and cheese balls onto his plate. “Mmm-mmm. These look divine!”

“Yes, they do,” Pastor Landris said, slicing one of the four left on his plate with his fork. He placed it in his mouth. “You’re right about this—they are good.”

“Okay. Now, back to my question: where are you and your family attending church these days?”

“We have fellowshipped at my wife’s home church in Edgewater. And we’ve popped in and popped out of a few other churches.”

“But not mine?”

Pastor Landris placed another bite in his mouth and savored the warm cheese and macaroni alongside the fried, crusty taste of the crisp outsides. “No, not yours.”

“I extended a personal invitation to you in December as soon as you arrived. I thought you would come. Then I saw you last month and invited you.”

“And you made me a proposition that I politely turned down.”

“True. But you were also interested in that building I happen to be in control of. Have you located another place yet to get started with your church?” Reverend Knight ate a spoonful of his clam chowder. He shoved it away from him. “This is cold.” He looked around for their waitress. When he got her attention, he beckoned for her.

“Yes?”

“Could you bring me some fresh, hot soup? This is cold.”

She looked from him to the bowl of chowder. “Sure. I’m sorry about that.” Sherry picked up the bowl—it was still hot.

Reverend Knight wiped his mouth with his white linen napkin and looked at Pastor Landris, still awaiting an answer. “A place—have you found one yet?”

“Not that it’s really any of your concern—”

“Or business. You can go on and say it.” Reverend Knight ate some more of the fried macaroni and cheese.

Pastor Landris couldn’t help but smile at this man. “I’m still looking.”

“What are your plans if you don’t find a suitable place soon?”

“Careful, Reverend Knight—you might start to sound like you really care.”

Reverend Knight ate his last bite. “You doubt that I do?”

“The thought has occurred to me a few times, especially after I learned my almost done-deal became a none-deal at your hand.”

“Again. What are your plans?” His new bowl of chowder arrived. He tasted it and nodded his approval. Sherry smiled and left.

Pastor Landris finished off the last of his fried macaroni and cheese. He wiped his mouth. “Who knows? Since quite a few people are interested in me getting started, I might just begin in my home. I’m sure you’re aware that’s where the early churches in the Bible began—inside people’s homes. There’s no shame in that.”

Reverend Knight began shaking his head. “Please don’t do that. You have too much of a reputation to allow that to get around town. I can see the headlines now: The Great, Magnificent, and Anointed Pastor George Landris, Reduced to Holding Church Services Inside His Home.”

“Nothing embarrassing about it to me. As long as people are hearing the Word of God and getting saved, what difference does it make where a service takes place?”

Their entrees arrived. “Whoa, Nellie,” Reverend Knight said as he watched both plates being placed before them. “I always forget how much food they give you here.”

“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” Sherry asked.

“What was I saying?” Reverend Knight said, ignoring her. His cell phone began to buzz and vibrate on the table. “Oh, yeah—I can’t let you go out like that.”

Pastor Landris smiled at Sherry and said, “We’re fine. Thank you.” He turned his attention back to Reverend Knight. “You can’t let me go out like what?”

“Look, Doc, I like you. I like you a lot. I have more respect for you than you’ll ever know. Why would you put yourself through things when you don’t have to? I was even thinking maybe we could become something like preach-partners. We could take that building you were looking at, fix it up just like you envisioned, and it could become an extension of The Church of Revelation.

“One church; two locations: Westside and Eastside. You could be responsible for the East while I continue to lead the West.” He tried to gauge Pastor Landris’s face to see whether he should continue; his face gave up nothing. “So what are your thoughts?”

“I’m honored you think so much of me that you’d be willing to do that…but, it’s not what God has told me to do.”

“Okay, two weeks ago you told me you had received a better offer. I respected that, especially when it appears I was beat out by God. Arms are too short to box there. Maybe God is somehow in this, though—you and I meeting like we did in the first place had to be ordered by the Lord, don’t you think? Let me ask you—do you still want the building?”

“I liked it and thought it would work for what I need short-term. But if I don’t get it, I’m sure God will send something along as good or better.”

“Well, here’s my offer: the building—it’s yours.”

Pastor Landris sat back against the seat. “What’s the catch? It’s mine if what?”

“It’s yours…if you want it.”

“At the same price I offered originally that you—or should I say, your nonprofit organization—accepted before it was taken off the market?”

Reverend Knight shook his head. “No.”

“I thought not.” Pastor Landris leaned in. “So how much is it going to set me back?”

Reverend Knight tore off a piece of yeast bread. “I’m not interested in your money.”

Pastor Landris looked at him and began a fake chuckle. “Yeah, okay. So what are you looking for in exchange—my soul? To agree to come on board with you, regardless of what I want to do? Oh, I know…we can pretend I’m in charge; meanwhile, you’ll be the puppet master pulling my strings.”

Reverend Knight leaned back and shook his head slowly. He turned down the sides of his mouth in a smirk. “No…strings…attached.” He placed both hands on the table. “Nothing in my hands.” He then turned them over, both palms showing.

Pastor Landris sat back and cocked his head to the side. “You must really believe I’m the most gullible person you’ve ever run across. First, you show up at a building I just happen to be checking out. I’m curious—how did you know I was there?”

“The realtor called and told me someone was going to look at it. Naturally, she was excited. We had been aggressively encouraging them, if you will, to hurry and secure a buyer. I don’t own that building alone, just in case you’re wondering.”

“Okay, so she calls and lets you know someone is going to look at it. Did you know it was me when you happened to show up?”

He gave a short laugh. “Of course I knew. You don’t honestly think I would waste my time showing up for just any old body, do you? Please.” He placed a forkful of grilled salmon in his mouth, followed by a bite of heavily sprinkled, pepper-sauced collard greens. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste, and said, “Your food is getting cold, Pastor.” His eyes opened. “At least eat while you grill me.”

Pastor Landris dipped his jumbo shrimp into cocktail sauce and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed slowly. “So you specifically showed up to meet me?”

“If the mountain won’t come to the sea, then the sea must come to the mountain. I believed you’d visit my church when you first hit our city. You didn’t. Even though I had my secretary send you a personal invitation on my official stationery, there was no response. Not a peep.” His cell phone buzzed.

“I’ve acknowledged I received it.”

“So I figured it was divine intervention when the realtor called to inform me that this pastor was looking for a building to either buy or lease, and he was interested in ours. When I happened to ask who this fine minister might be, she, of course, blurted out your name—not even realizing who you were. She couldn’t know that a building that size would only contain you, for what? A year? Maybe. She’s so used to regular folks trying to figure out how they’re going to make their payments. She had no idea that if you chose to buy the place, you most likely would be handing her a cashier’s check for the entire amount without a mortgage.”

“Who said I have that kind of cash to be dropping on a building?”

“You were buying a ten million dollar radio station. Cash, from what I heard.”

Pastor Landris paused. “How do you know about the radio station?”

“I know about a lot of things—including the fact that the deal fell through, and that you’re having a little trouble getting your cash back.” He reached down and picked up his cell phone. “Pardon me. Someone appears desperate to speak with me.”

He answered the phone, talking in code as far as Pastor Landris was concerned.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Reverend Knight said when he finished. “Looks like I have to cut lunch short. I have a preacher friend who may be having a heart attack. He’s one of those faithful friends. You know, the ones that start out with you and stay until the very end. I need to see him.” Reverend Knight took a few rushed bites as he beckoned for Sherry.

“Yes,” Sherry said, seeing his plate practically empty. “You two ready for dessert?”

“Duty calls, my dear,” Reverend Knight said as he pulled out cash and handed it to her. “This should cover our meal as well as dessert, should the good pastor here decide he’d like to indulge himself.” He looked at Pastor Landris, then Sherry, and grinned. “The rest is for your tip, madam, and for the fine way which you have served us today.” Sherry was then summoned to another table.

“Pastor Landris, I highly recommend the peach cobbler,” he said. “I’m somewhat of a cobbler connoisseur. And I’ve yet to find any that can touch this establishment’s cobbler, including my own mother’s—God rest her sweet soul—who was a champion cobbler cook, hands down.”

He stepped into the aisle and slipped on his overcoat. “Doc, if you want the building, let me know. You have my number. It’ll be available for as long as you want it at no charge. Think about it. Pray about it. Talk it over, but get back to me one way or the other. The sooner, it would seem to me, the better—for you.” He placed his hat on his head.

“However, if you choose to pass on my offer,” Reverend Knight said, “there are others right now who have—out of nowhere, it seems—lined up to purchase it. Two other groups must have heard you were looking at it. Now they want it and are willing to pay our asking price. I enjoyed lunch, I truly did. Maybe you and I can do this again soon.”

“Thank you,” Pastor Landris said. “And thanks for lunch. I’ll be in touch.”

Reverend Knight patted Pastor Landris twice on his shoulder as he left. He acknowledged various people as he made his usual showboat exit.